


A Lover's Alibi

by aneedleofmyown



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneedleofmyown/pseuds/aneedleofmyown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron, unable to bear the space between them any longer, said, "C'mere." Without hesitation, Hermione surged forward into his arms. For the first time that day, Ron felt truly at peace; Hermione was with him and everything else just fell mercifully away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lover's Alibi

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! So, this is basically going to be (yet another) post-Battle, 19-year gap fic. At this point, I'm not planning to cover the entire 19-year period between the last chapter of DH and the epilogue, but we'll see what happens. :) Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

Hermione gazed out over the dirt and rubble surrounding her as the early gray light of dawn began to descend on the Hogwarts grounds. Harry and Ron both stood at her side, silent and steady. Looking back toward the castle's entrance, her heart plummeted at the sight of bodies being levitated on stretchers- some alive, others horribly, tragically dead. They had lost so many friends, family members, mentors... For a moment, she couldn't see past it to what they had all gained in the process, what their lives had been for. And then the sun arose over the horizon, streaking the sky with pink and orange, and for a brief moment, she was overwhelmed with relief and hope and- of course- weariness.

Looking over at Harry, she marveled at what he had accomplished; what he had sacrificed. He barely seemed to notice her gaze on his face, his eyes tight and sorrowful as he took in the sight of the fallen, yet not broken, Hogwarts. Turning her head to her other side, she saw that Ron was studying her.

_Ron_.

This, above all, was what lifted Hermione's spirit. He held her gaze and she drank in the sight of him, feeling more steady and safe than she could ever remember feeling. Something had changed between them; it was impossible to overlook. Ron stared at her with sad, tired eyes, and she reached her hand out to him, intertwining their fingers. Turning back to Harry, she did the same to him. These boys were her home, she realized, now more than ever, and she couldn't believe her luck that she got to keep them.

Squeezing their hands tightly in hers, she could think of nothing to say, so she simply stood, a strange and unfamiliar sense of peace filling her entirely.

A few more minutes passed before any of them spoke. "We should help out," Harry said, his voice coming out rough and hoarse.

Hermione looked over to him, and couldn't help but admire his strength. "Yeah... I reckon you're right," Ron said from beside her. "There's a lot that'll need to be done." Unlike Harry's, his voice simply sounded flat and expressionless, and she was reminded again of how much they had really lost. Fred's face flashed across her mind's eye, and she couldn't quite keep a tear from sliding down her cheek. She knew she had to remain strong, though, for her friends, so she quickly composed herself.

"Yes, that's a good idea," she said a bit stiffly. There was just so much to take in at once, and she was ill-equipped to handle any of it. She let go of her friend's hands, and the three of them walked as one into what remained of the school.

Thankfully, the dead bodies had been moved from the Great Hall to some unknown location within the castle, and the room was instead being used as a sort of recuperation area for those of them who were left behind. Madame Pomfrey was bustling about the room, as well as half a dozen other Healers, tending to the injured and weary. Scanning her eyes over the crowd, Hermione spotted the entire Weasley family- glaringly absent of one member- huddled together, talking quietly and halfheartedly sipping from a few teacups. The weight of their loss was visible in their faces even from a distance, just as Ron's was, and her heart went out to them. The Weasleys were her wizarding family and it was garish and unnatural for them to be broken in this way.

Molly Weasley looked up from where she had previously held her head in her hands and stood quickly from Arthur's comforting embrace. "Oh, my boy," she said, her voice hitching audibly in her throat, and she hurried over to Ron, enveloping him in her arms. "My boy, my boy," she said simply, silent tears falling down her face as Ron suddenly clutched her tightly and began sobbing.

Hermione's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she could no longer hold them back. The rest of the Weasleys quickly made their way over and formed a large huddle, hugging each other and letting the tears flow freely from their eyes. Hermione put a shaking hand to her mouth to keep a sob from escaping, and Harry put a comforting arm around her as he rubbed at his own eyes.

"Maybe we should give them some space," he whispered to her in a choked voice. Unable to speak through the tears clogging her own throat, Hermione simply nodded. About to make their way past the grieving family, Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense their movement.

"Oh, my dears," she said, a fresh wave of tears coming over her as she broke away slightly from the group to take her and Harry into her arms. "Thank Merlin you two are alright," she cried, kissing them both on the head. Hermione tried to keep any more tears from leaking out of her eyes, but by now it was pointless. Both of her parents were still in Australia with no idea who she was, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had always been like her second set of parents. She was in no position to be able to deny any comfort she could get from them.

Pulling away, Molly held her and Harry at arm's length, appraising their faces. Hermione looked over to Harry and saw that his face was now as wet with tears as her own. "You're coming home with us," the woman said suddenly, and decisively.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest- she had no desire to intrude on the family's grief- but she was brought up short when Mr. Weasley appeared beside his wife, placing an arm around her shoulders. "And there'll be no buts about it," he said sternly, a small smile forming on his mouth, though his eyes remained heartbreakingly lost.

Knowing it was pointless to try and argue the point with them, Harry and Hermione both simply nodded in gratitude.

The rest of that afternoon was spent helping to clear some of the rubble, as well as helping the Healers administer potions and change bandages. Hermione moved through her tasks in a dull, autopilot state. She tried to keep herself from wondering where the bodies of her friends had been removed to; Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Lavender... There were so many of them.

Finally, sometime in the early afternoon, Professor McGonagall approached the lot of them as they continued to labor on with their work. "Thank you all so much for staying to help us," she told them, her voice sounding incredibly tired, and her hair coming messily out of its normally-neat bun. "I can't tell you what a difference it's made."

"There's no thanks necessary, Minerva," Arthur replied, pausing for a moment from the task of vanishing a large pile of rubble. "It's something we have to do."

"Nevertheless," she replied kindly, "it hasn't gone unappreciated. But you all have done more than enough. Why don't you go home, get some rest?"

"But we're not finished yet," Ron piped up, his voice stronger and more animated than it had been earlier.

"Believe me, Ronald," McGonagall replied, using his first name for the first time in Hermione's memory, and giving him a somewhat sad smile, "this won't be something that can be fixed up in a simple day's time. Your family will be needed for more important things than cleaning soon, and I want you all to be well-rested for it when that time comes."

"She's right, guys," Bill said, leaning slightly against the broom in his hand. "I think we've done about all we can for now."

After a brief moment, McGonagall nodded, seeing that no one else was going to try and talk their way into staying. "Molly," she spoke, "Arthur, I wonder if I could speak with you two privately for a moment before you leave?"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said, nodding and taking her husband's arm as they followed the woman out of the Great Hall.

Watching his parents walk away, Ron walked over toward Hermione, and she felt a small part of herself light up; the only part left of her, it seemed, that hadn't been tainted by the events of the past twenty-four hours. However, that light was quickly doused when he opened his mouth to speak. "I reckon they've gone to talk about what to do with Fred," he told her, still staring at the point where the three adults had disappeared around the corner.

For about the hundredth time that day, her heart broke painfully inside her chest. Ruefully, she wondered how she would ever fit all the pieces back together again. She didn't know what to say to him; she'd never lost anyone so close to her. She couldn't even imagine it, honestly, seeing as she was an only child. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry sitting next to Ginny, whose face was now dry, but drawn. She had come so close to losing him, and he was the closest thing to a brother she had ever known. Looking back at Ron, she felt a new understanding for what he must be going through, and she simply said, "I'm sorry." It was no good, but she knew that there was nothing she could say to actually make him feel any better. The only thing she could do now was to be sincere.

He finally looked over at her and, after a long moment, she thought she saw the briefest flash of a smile in his eyes. "I'm glad you're coming home with us, Hermione." His voice was soft and genuine, and she wanted nothing more than to sink into his arms and stay there forever, blocking out all the horrible things going on around them.

Taking a step closer to him, she felt, for the first time in hours, a small, genuine smile creep across her face. "Me, too."

Ron glanced down at her mouth for a brief moment before looking quickly away, his ears burning a familiar shade of crimson. Suddenly, she was reminded of exactly  _why_  things had changed between them: She had kissed him. In the heat of the moment, not knowing whether or not one or both of them would be dead before the night was over, she had sailed into his arms and planted her mouth as firmly as she could against his. She hadn't fully expected him to react with as much passion and enthusiasm as he had, but the memory of him lifting her off her feet and kissing her back made the blood pulse more insistently through her veins.

Their shared remembrance was only a moment between them- and a brief one, at that- but it was so nice to think about anything other than what was actually happening in the present that Hermione found herself wishing she could simply live in this second of time forever. Or at least until all the bad things finally just fell away.

"Hey."

Realizing she was staring, Hermione abruptly looked away from Ron, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. Harry and Ginny stood in front of them, hands linked tightly together, and she noticed that they both looked a bit more calm; not better, exactly, but... stronger, somehow.

"How are you guys?" Ginny asked them, though she looked directly at Ron as she spoke.

"Fine," he mumbled, looking back to the entrance to the Great Hall, as if waiting for his parents to come back through the doors.

"Hermione?" Harry said, bringing her attention back to the two of them.

She didn't know what to say, though. She didn't understand how to act normally with everything else so entirely surreal. How was she  _supposed_  to be? "Better," she finally replied, because it was at least somewhat true. Or, it had been, for a brief moment.

The four of them stood in silence for several moments. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, though; they were all simply lost in their own thoughts, staring down toward the ground, or across the Hall, their eyes resting on nothing, in particular. Besides, what were they supposed to talk about, anyway? Hermione thought. The only thing that seemed right, or appropriate to talk about was entirely too painful, and she felt she had cried enough that day.

"Hey, they're back," Ron said without preamble, nodding his head toward Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were now walking toward the four of them. Their eyes, Hermione noticed, were dry, but red and slightly swollen. Ron must have been right about what McGonagall needed to talk to them about.

"Okay," Arthur said, in a surprisingly brisk manner. Molly didn't quite look at them, but merely gripped her husband's hand tightly where it rested on her shoulder. "You kids all set to go?"

Hermione, Ron, and Harry all nodded mutely, but Ginny asked boldly, "What did McGonagall want?"

Something changed in Mr. Weasley's eyes, and he glanced down briefly at his wife, who hadn't seemed to hear her daughter's inquiry. "We'll talk about it later, Ginny."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he merely shot her a stern look, and she closed her mouth. "Well, let's be off, then," he continued, seeing that Ginny had given in. "I think we should all try and get a few hours of sleep in before supper tonight."

They all mumbled their assent and followed the older couple to one of the make-shift departure stations that had been set up around the castle's ground floor. Several fireplaces had appeared in the corridors, hooked up to a secure Floo network, ready for anyone and everyone to make their way home. The rest of the Weasley siblings met up with them as they waited in the queue.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy all looked about the same as the rest of them: lost and defeated, yet still somehow held together by some unknown force. But Hermione could barely even look at George. At a glance, she could see that he was entirely and irrevocably broken. His loss was apparent on his face, and she could hardly recognize him. He didn't look at anyone, instead keeping his eyes trained steadily on the ground, his tears falling to the hard, cold stone in silence. Mrs. Weasley went to him and tried to comfort him, but he pushed her away roughly and growled out a simple, yet forceful, "No."

Not for the first time, Hermione reconsidered whether it were at all wise for her and Harry to return to the Burrow with the Weasleys. Not that she didn't want to go with them, or that she didn't love them dearly, but she couldn't imagine that their presence would cause anything but more pain and tension than was healthy.

Then she remembered what Ron had said to her:  _He was glad she was coming with them_. He had smiled at her and seemed somewhere so close to normal in that moment, and she realized that she couldn't leave him. Whether it was right or not, she had no choice. Ron needed her and- even more powerfully- she needed him. She doubted whether she'd be physically capable of leaving him behind, anyway, regardless of what she actually decided.

And so, feeling once again as if she actually had a purpose, Hermione stepped into the large fireplace when it was her time, spoke the words "the Burrow" as clearly as she could, and let herself be devoured by the bright green flames.

* * *

Ron lay in his too-short bed and stared up at the ceiling numbly. Every few minutes or so, he'd hear Harry muttering incomprehensibly as he dreamed, no doubt reliving the events of the past few days. Everyone else was most likely asleep in their beds, as well, trying to get in a few much-needed hours before dinner; for whatever reason, though, he just couldn't keep his eyes closed. Harry had always taken the piss about how quickly Ron always fell asleep, and Hermione had even done so on occasion, once she had gotten a firsthand look at his sleeping habits while they were out hunting Horcruxes together. He wished that was the case now, too, because he really was incredibly exhausted.

Ron simply lay in his bed for an hour straight before he decided that he needed to just get up and  _do_  something. Making his way downstairs, he came up to the doorway of their small living room, and saw George sitting motionless on the couch, his eyes fixed on a point in the air in front of him. He was just about to move away from the door when his brother suddenly looked up at him.

"Oh," Ron said. "Erm... hey." He rubbed at his neck awkwardly, trying to think of the right thing to say, but it was pointless. George didn't answer him, anyway, merely nodding slightly toward him and moving his eyes back to the space in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to simply take the silent invitation to leave, though, so instead he asked, "So... what are you doing?"

George's eyes moved slowly back to him, and a moment of faint surprise registered there at Ron's still standing in front of him. "Picking daisies," he finally said. "What does it look like I'm doing?" His voice was completely devoid of life or sarcasm, and the sound of it made Ron want to shake his brother back to who he used to be. That empty voice would haunt him for the rest of his life, he was sure of it.

"Well," he began, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and giving a small shrug, "I was thinking about taking the Cleansweeps out and going for a ride." He paused. "You wouldn't... erm... want to come, would you?"

George simply stared at him.

"Right," Ron said quickly, feeling the tips of his ears grow warm. "I'll just... be going, then." He walked quickly out of the house before he could muck things up any further. "Blimey," he muttered, rubbing his neck as he walked out toward the shed where they kept their very old, very slow brooms, as well as countless other tools and trinkets.

Picking out the fastest broom they had, Ron mounted it and coaxed it high off the ground. Unthinkingly, he sped off toward the small lake located a few hundred yards away from the house. Really, though, he didn't have any particular destination in mind. Flying past the lake, he continued on for almost a mile until he saw Luna's house a little ways off in the distance. Realizing how far he'd gone, he quickly turned his broom around and hurried back the way he had come. If his mother somehow found out that he had flown out past the magical barrier protecting their home, he'd never hear the end of it.

A few minutes later, he was back on the front lawn of the Burrow, alighting surprisingly gracefully on the ground. Pausing a moment to stretch, he paced over toward the shed and stowed away his broom. Just as he closed its door, he heard someone come out from the house, and he glanced up to see Hermione walking toward him.

Even now, after everything that had happened- everything that he was trying desperately not to think about- his heart still leaped at the sight of her, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He studied her as she made her way over to him; there were dark, bruise-like circles just beneath her eyes, her skin was tight and drawn, and her wild hair was escaping from an untidy bun. And yet, the brown depths of her eyes were bright with awareness and understanding, and she held herself tall. She was strong and beautiful.

"Hi," she greeted as she came to a halt before him, her mouth curving slightly upward.

"Hey," he breathed, struggling to bring himself back into the moment. He tried not to stare as he asked, "What are you doing awake?"

She looked down briefly before shrugging her slight shoulders. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Same," he told her, not wanting to think about  _why_  neither of them had been able to escape into unconsciousness. They merely stared at each other for a few moments before Ron, unable to bear the space between them any longer, said, "C'mere."

Without hesitation, Hermione surged forward into his arms, and he held her as tightly to him as he could. He pressed his face into her neck and suppressed a moan at how good she smelled. The two of them swayed slightly on the spot and, for the first time that day, Ron felt truly at peace. Hermione was with him, and everything else just fell mercifully away.

"Hermione," he murmured, his voice thick with passion and longing. He felt her tremble in his arms as his breath swept over the soft skin of her neck. She sighed and he pulled away slightly to look at her. Keeping her arms around his neck, she used her hands to pull him back toward her.

Ron's breathing was shallow now with hunger and anticipation as he pressed his forehead to hers. It was stupid, he knew, but he still wasn't sure what she wanted. She had kissed him, after all, in the middle of the battle, but then had said nothing about it. She hadn't mentioned it once since it had happened, and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe she regretted doing it in the first place. His hands pinched nervously at her hips, unsure what to do next, but then she whimpered: "Ron, please."

He looked into her eyes, then, and she was so close to him. Her fingers dug more insistently into the back of his neck, and he finally had no choice but to believe that she wanted him as much as he wanted her in that moment. Closing the gap between them, Ron somewhat tentatively pressed his lips to hers for a second time.

Immediately, she pulled him in even closer, and he closed his eyes tightly, no longer able to hold back the groan that had been building up in his throat. Clutching at her waist, he pulled her body to his as firmly as he could and relished the feel of her plush curves pressed against him. The rest of the world seemed to completely splinter and fall away as they kissed, and he could think of no other way he'd rather spend his time.

"Ron?" a familiar voice called out from within the house, breaking the passionate haze around him like a bucket of ice water.

He groaned in annoyance and reluctantly pulled away from Hermione, swearing under his breath. For her part, Hermione merely stood in front of him, looking dazed, and he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit smug.

"Ron!" Just then, his mother's face appeared in the kitchen window. "Oh, there you are," she said, relief obvious in her voice. "And you, too, Hermione; good."

Hermione gave the woman a small, embarrassed little wave, and Mrs. Weasley said, "I was wondering if you two could help me with dinner? The boys are coming over, so it'll be a bit crowded, and we'll need all the food we can make."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said readily, and Ron looked toward her. To be frank, helping his mum cook dinner was the last thing he wanted to do after snogging the girl of his dreams, but he guessed that was just how things were now.

"Yeah, alright," he said to his mum, who'd obviously expected him to need some more coaxing.

"Oh," she said in pleasant surprise. "Okay, good. Well, go ahead and come inside, then, and we can get started."

Mrs. Weasley ducked her head back into the house, and Ron's eyes drifted back over to Hermione. She was already grinning at him, and he felt a slow smile come to his face in return. "Have I mentioned how happy I am that you're here?"

* * *

Dinner that night was... a painful affair. Ron quickly realized that, while it was easier to forget all the terrible things that had happened over the past few days- namely, his big brother's jarring death- while he was alone with Hermione, it was quite a different story when he was faced with a crowded kitchen full of people who all reminded him, in some way, of Fred. George, of course, above anyone else, though the similarities between he and Fred now stopped at their appearance. The remaining twin sat silently and numbly toward the end of the long table, acutely aware of the way almost everyone tried to avoid looking into his face.

Ron loved George more than anything and, while the twins had always teased him mercilessly growing up, he still wanted to be able to be there to support his older brother. But it was just... too soon. And the cold, hard truth was that he just looked too much like Fred.

Everyone sat silently throughout the meal, barely making noise even with their forks and knives. A pall had been cast over them that just couldn't be completely shaken. However, when the last person had finally finished eating, Ron saw his mother sit up taller in her seat and his father cleared his throat, breaking the tight silence around them.

"So," he began quietly, then paused. He was suddenly overcome by emotion and for a small moment, he stopped and rubbed furiously at his eyes. When he spoke again, there was an audible tremor in his voice, as though he were on the verge of tears. "I know this isn't something any of us wants to talk about... but it has to be done. And your mother and I would rather you all have a say in what happens from here."

_Oh, no_ , Ron thought, dread sinking down like a dead weight in his stomach. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was about to happen, and he didn't think he'd be able to be a part of it. "Can I be excused?" he asked frantically before anyone else could open their mouths to speak.

"No, Ron," Molly said sternly, keeping him locked in his seat by the mere power of her gaze. "You're just as much a part of this family as any of us, and we'll need your help, too."

"Maybe we should-" Hermione began, looking to Harry and standing up slightly from her seat beside Ron as if to leave, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Wait," he said, even more nervously. If he was going to have to get through this, then he would need her and Harry both at his side. "Stay," he requested simply.

Hermione gazed at him for a prolonged moment, and he didn't take his hand away from her. Finally, she sat back down next to him and, relieved, Ron glanced over at Harry. He didn't look eager at the prospect of staying in the room either, but he gave him a slight nod from across the table nevertheless.

Ron looked back up toward his parents and gripped Hermione's hand silently under the table; she squeezed back gently, and he felt the knot in his chest loosen a bit.

Seeing that his son had finally settled on sticking around, Mr. Weasley began in a slightly stronger voice, "We need to make preparations for Fred's... funeral." The difficulty with which he said the last word was apparent in his entire being.

George let out a indistinguishable, choked sound and Mrs. Weasley gazed over at him, anguished. She hadn't so much as touched him since she'd tried comforting him back at Hogwarts.

"Now," Arthur continued, "your mother and I have to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow to... to bring Fred home." A solitary tear escaped his eye, and he brushed it quickly away, taking a deep breath. "So, we were thinking of having a s-small service the day after tomorrow to put- to put your brother to rest."

Molly pressed a trembling hand to her mouth and the tears began flowing freely down her face. For his part, Ron merely stared down at the wooden table and fought desperately against the stinging tears behind his eyes. Grasping Hermione's hand as tightly in his as he dared, he tried to remind himself that he wasn't truly alone.

There was silence all around the table as what Mr. Weasley had said really began to sink in.

Then: "He's really gone." Ginny's voice was light and fluttery, like a baby bird with its wing broken. The sound of it tore Ron's heart in two and without meaning to, he crushed Hermione's hand in his. He heard her sharp intake of breath at the pain, and he quickly let go of her, feeling even worse. She didn't let him go, though; she wrapped her arm around his and rubbed his skin soothingly. Again, he felt himself begin to relax, and he was able to look over at his sister. Harry had his arm around her shoulder, and Ron was grateful that  _he_  at least could comfort her.

There was another moment of silence before Arthur continued softly. "We're thinking just a small ceremony. Close friends and family only."

Ron reflected for a moment that that didn't sound exactly like something that Fred would want, but he no longer had the energy to speak up. Besides, he was starting to think that maybe funerals were more for the benefit of the living than the dead. His family was already struggling to deal, and he doubted they could handle much more.

"Does that sound alright to everyone?" Molly asked weakly, taking her husband's hand. They all mumbled in general agreement, obviously ready for the conversation to be over. George, apparently overcome with his grief, stood quickly from the table and rushed upstairs to his room- a room that he now had all to himself, though the bunk-bed still remained.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watched helplessly as he left, and the rest of them began to awkwardly gather their plates, not knowing what else to say or do. Deciding to step up, Ron walked over to his mum where she was now beginning to clean up the dishes and put everything away, and said, "D'you want some help with this?"

She looked over at him in surprise. "Oh, Ron. That's very sweet of you, but I'll be fine."

"It's not a problem if you do," he insisted, bringing a large pile of plates over to the sink. "I want to help," he told her sincerely. There was nothing he could do about Fred's death or anything else, it seemed, and he couldn't help but want to take any opportunity he could to try and prove himself in some small way.

"Really, dear, it's fine," Molly persisted. Placing a gentle hand to his face she said, "You need to rest now, Ron. If you really want to help, go get some sleep; we'll all have plenty to do tomorrow."

_Right_ , he thought.  _Like getting ready to bury Fred._

"Alright," he said somewhat reluctantly, and turned to make his way up to his room. Before he made it two steps, though, his mother turned him around and gathered him into her arms for the second time that day. Caught a little off guard, he wrapped his arms around her after a slight pause and returned her embrace.

"Thank you, dear. Really," she said, finally stepping away from him and looking up with fresh tears in her eyes. "You're such a good son; I don't know wh-what I'd do without you."

Ron's chest filled with a strange combination of pride and sadness, and he felt a sudden rush of love and affection for his mother. "The same goes to you," he told her genuinely, but with a little embarrassment, as well. He wasn't used to this kind of display with any of his family members, but he liked it all the same. Leaning down, he tentatively placed a kiss to his mother's cheek, and he felt her smile for the first time that day.

"Now, go on," she told him briskly as he stepped back, composing herself once again. "Get some sleep. And  _don't_  stay up all night talking to Harry and Hermione," she warned, though the corners of her mouth twitched slightly, holding back her smile.

"'Course not, mum," he assured her with a slightly cheeky grin of his own before turning and making his way up the stairs and to his room.

* * *

Hermione lay in bed, staring out into the darkness of her and Ginny's shared room. She had only managed to get about an hour of sleep that afternoon, so she was definitely due for a bit more, but she just couldn't keep her thoughts from racing. She felt almost guilty to admit that most of those thoughts were revolving around the kiss she and Ron had shared earlier. Her entire body warmed over just thinking about it, and she rolled over restlessly.

The kiss had been even better than their first one, Hermione mused, remembering with longing the way he'd moaned and clutched at her waist. It had been absolutely perfect, and she only wished it could have lasted longer. Crossing her legs under the covers, she wondered if Ron were awake right now. Maybe she could go see him...

Shaking her head reproachfully at herself, she pushed the thought aside. That would be entirely inappropriate.

...Or would it? After all, she, Ron, and Harry had spent months with no one but each other for company, spending weeks alone in a tent together. She had _never_  been alone. Wasn't it only natural now that she feel a little strange sleeping in a room devoid of their presence?

_Yes_ , Hermione reassured herself fervently.  _It's only natural._

With that, she convinced herself to make the short trip upstairs and to the boys' room. She just... she needed to see them. Carefully, she threw her legs over the edge of her bed and silently placed her bare feet on the cold hardwood floor. She stood up and was almost to the door when a voice asked from behind her, "Hermione?"

"Ginny?" she said, turning around quickly and seeing the redhead sitting up in bed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," Ginny replied easily, then paused. "What are you doing?"

Hermione stood silent for a moment and contemplated lying to her friend. She didn't know how it would sound if she were to actually say that she was about to sneak up to Ron's room in the middle of the night. But then she realized that, if Ron and Harry actually were awake, then Ginny would want to be included.

"Oh, I was just..." She tried to find a proper way to say it. "I was just going to see if Harry and Ron were still awake. Do you want to come?"

"Oh," Ginny said, and Hermione struggled to read her expression through the darkness. "No, that's alright," she continued. "You go ahead."

"Are you sure?" she asked in surprise. It wasn't like Ginny to turn down an opportunity to see Harry. But then, she supposed, none of them were really acting like themselves anymore.

"Yeah," Ginny replied with a curt nod. "I think I'll just stay here and try and get some more sleep." With that, the redhead lay back down under her covers, and Hermione- somewhat uncertainly, now- left the room.

When she reached the door to the boys' room, she was relieved to see a dim light shining through the crack at the bottom. Very quietly, she tapped a knuckle against the solid wood and, after a moment of silence, she heard some rustling and then footsteps.

"Hermione!" Ron greeted her in surprise, and his hand immediately started rubbing at his neck.

She shielded her eyes for a moment against the sudden brightness of the light, but her eyes quickly adjusted. "Hey," she said softly, smiling up at him. He was wearing an old pair of pajama bottoms with a hole in the knee and a black Chudley Cannons t-shirt. Hermione's mouth went a little dry at the sight of him, but she tried not to make her attraction too obvious. "You guys have room for one more in there?" she asked, peeking around him to see Harry sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking over at the two of them.

"Yeah, sure," Ron replied quickly, and opened the door wider as she stepped past him.

Taking in the messy scene around her, she asked, "Wizard's chess?" Sitting down next to Harry in front of the board, she could see that nearly all of his pieces were missing, bits of their remains scattered around the floor.

"Yeah," Harry replied, though he sounded a bit put out. "I don't know why I always bloody agree to play this stupid game."

Ron sat down across from them and grinned over at Harry. "I reckon it's because you actually think you'll get better and beat me someday."

"Oh, it's gonna happen," Harry insisted, looking intensely down at his remaining pieces.

Ron merely grinned even wider as he gloatingly straightened one of his pawns. "If you say so, mate."

"Is this really what you guys do in the middle of the night?" Hermione asked in unconcealed amusement. " _Play_   _chess_?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Hermione," Ron cheeked, smiling over at her. "Besides, we just play until Harry gives up. Which should be any minute now," he added, leaning toward her conspiratorially so that only she could hear. She blushed slightly at his closeness and glanced over at Harry, who was still studying the chess board carefully.

"Just give up, Harry," Ron insisted. "You've been staring at that piece for the last ten minutes."

"Ugh, fine," he exclaimed petulantly, knocking over his last few pieces in exasperation. "You win again, you tosser."

Ron merely gave Harry a smug grin and began picking up the chess pieces, the broken ones automatically repairing themselves at the close of the match.

Hermione smiled at the two of them and, before she could stop it, a light laugh escaped her mouth. They both looked over at her with questioning expressions, but after a moment, they both started laughing as well. She didn't even really know what they were all laughing about now, but she imagined that it was about the only way any of them knew how to release their pent-up nervous energy.

There were so many things left unsaid between the three of them, but she had no idea how to bring any of it up. It didn't help that she honestly didn't  _want_  to talk about those things. But it seemed as if they wouldn't be able to go back to normal until they had; all day, conversations between the three of them had been awkward and stunted, at best. Hermione just wanted her friends back.

The laughter between them slowly faded into silence, and the three of them sat there with nothing to say. Looking over at her two closest friends in the world, Hermione was once again overwhelmed with gratitude that they were all still alive. It suddenly hit her that they didn't have to worry anymore.

"It's... it's really over, isn't it?" she said quietly, breaking the silence between them.

Ron looked over at her for a moment, studying her face. Then, a small smile stretched across his lips. "It's over." He sounded as though the thought had only just occurred to him, as well.

Looking over at Harry, Hermione saw that he didn't look as hopeful. Guessing what he was thinking, she moved a little closer and said firmly, "He's dead, Harry. He can't come back this time."

"We've thought that before," he said quietly.

"But it's different this time," she pressed, eager to make him see. "Can't you tell?" He merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Harry," Ron said, speaking to his friend in that way only he could, "we destroyed all the Horcruxes. The only one that could've caused trouble later on was... well, you, 'cause we didn't know about it. But then... y-you died..."

Ron trailed off suddenly, and for a long moment he said nothing, making Hermione wonder what he was thinking. Fred's face flashed unbidden in her mind as she remembered Harry's story about his experience at Kings Cross. For the first time, she wondered if it had been the same for him. Had Fred had a choice about getting on that train, or had he already been aboard when he opened his eyes? Or had the train even been there in the first place; was it all just darkness, instead? Shaking the thoughts away, she looked back toward Ron. The expression on his face made her wonder if he were somehow thinking along the same lines as she.

Another moment passed before he quickly cleared his throat. "So, see," he continued, briskly, "he  _can't_  come back. It's just logic."

Hermione stared at Ron as he finished. She couldn't help but smile slightly over at him, feeling surprised, proud, and ever so slightly amused at his use of common sense. It was something she would have said.

Harry smirked to himself, and she wondered whether he were thinking the same thing. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, his smirk transforming into a genuine smile. It was the first time Hermione had seen him smile all day, and the tightness in her chest faded at the sight of it. "It's just... strange," he continued, and looked over at both of them. "I mean, what are we supposed to do now?"

Ron laughed a bit ruefully, and shrugged. "Search me." He paused thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "You're right, though. It's like..." He struggled to find the words. "Like, our whole lives have basically been spent trying to kill this guy- Voldemort," he added, after a pause, "and now that he's actually dead, we have no other purpose left."

Hermione stared over at him, trying not to feel a little more hurt with each word he said. She had found her meaning again in being with him, because she needed him and had thought that he needed her, too. But she heard none of that in his words, and she couldn't help but wonder what she was doing there, if he didn't feel that same purpose toward her.

"That's what's so great about it, though," she said briskly, looking solely over at Harry. "Now, we can do whatever we want. We can focus on our goals and ambitions and make those into realities. There's a lot left to live for," she said fervently, taking his hand in hers and refusing to look back toward the redhead, as he watched the two of them now with slightly narrowed eyes.

Harry looked at her as she spoke, and his smile broadened. "Yeah, you're right," he said wearily, with a slight roll of his eyes- she was  _always_  right, after all. But she felt him squeeze her hand slightly before letting go, and she knew he was being sincere. "Speaking of that, though," he continued, "Hermione, is Ginny still awake?"

"Oi!" Ron said quickly, and they both turned back to him and saw that his face was flushed. "Why d'you need to know that?"

Ignoring him, Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry, saying, "She was awake when I left. I wouldn't be surprised if she still were."

"Cheers," he said brightly, standing up and moving toward the door.

"Hey!" Ron called out, jumping up and looking almost comically scandalized. "You're not trotting off to my baby sister's room in the middle of the night, you wanker!"

"Ron-" Hermione began, reminding herself not to scold him for his language.

"Why not?" Harry asked, before she could continue. "You let Hermione come into yours," he said nodding over at her.

Hermione felt her face instantly begin to burn and she couldn't help but glance briefly over at Ron. His face and ears were a deep crimson and he opened and closed his mouth quickly, spluttering for words.

"That's... that's different," he said finally, as Harry watched him in amusement. "Y-you were in here, we weren't going to-" As if suddenly realizing where his words were leading him, Ron quickly shut his mouth.

"Yes," Harry said easily, "and now I'm  _not_  going to be in here, so you two can do whatever you please." And with that, he walked out the door, closing it smugly behind him.

Hermione and Ron stood in silence for several moments, staring at the closed door in mortification.

"That twat," Ron finally said disbelievingly, and sat on the edge of his bed in defeat.

"Don't swear, Ron," Hermione admonished without thinking. It was such an automatic response now, after their seven years of friendship, that she sometimes didn't even realize she was doing it. "Harry's not going to hurt her."

Ron simply muttered under his breath, pouting now.

"Oh,  _do_  get over yourself, please," she snapped, suddenly angry. She was still upset about what he'd said earlier, and was in no mood to tend to his wounded ego. "People touch and snog each other-  _including_  Ginny. It's really not that big of a deal!"

Ron stared at her looking surprised and confused by her outburst, and for a long moment he seemed utterly speechless. "Hermione," he finally said, standing up from his bed defensively, "what the  _bloody_  hell are you talking about? What's going on?"

"Do you even  _want_  me here, Ron?" she asked, turning on him angrily.

"What? Where did you get  _that_  from?"

"What am I doing here?" Hermione said bluntly, planting her fists on her hips.

He simply stared at her in complete confusion. "Er..."

"It's a simple question, Ron," she insisted. Feeling some of the anger and annoyance suddenly seep out of her, she held a hand out toward him in an almost pleading way. "Do you want me here, or not?"

"What kind of question is that?" he asked. "Of course, I want you here, Hermione," he said fervently, crossing to her and grasping her hand tightly in his. "I'd think that was pretty obvious."

"But then why would you say-?" she began, but he didn't let her finish.

"Whatever it was I said, I didn't mean it the way you think. I don't care what it is. I want you here, Hermione," he repeated firmly, taking a step closer to her and stopping the accusing words in her throat. They were only inches apart now, and it began to make her heart beat faster in his chest. Her eyes widened as she stared up into his face. "I-I want  _you_."

Hermione stood completely still, arrested by his powerful gaze. She couldn't believe he had actually said those words- and to  _her_. It was everything that she hadn't even known she needed to hear, and the last vestiges of her anger melted away instantly. The sincerity in his voice moved her to her core and filled her completely with the strongest craving she'd ever known. She laced her fingers with his and breathed his name. " _Ron_."

She saw his adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed hard and looked down at her. His gaze drifted over the entire length of her body, and she could hear his breathing hitch slightly as he licked his lips. It was almost too much for her; her flesh warmed over wherever his eyes lingered, and her heart began to pound in her chest. Ron had never looked at her like this, never so openly and clearly let his desire show on his face. It made her blood course through her veins, sending a pleasant, warm tingling through her limbs.

"Ron..." she repeated impatiently, practically begging for him to touch her. His eyes traveled back up her body to meet her gaze, and she felt as if she would drown in their clear blue depths.

"Hermione," he replied softly, placing a rough hand to her cheek and tangling his fingers in her hair. Then, suddenly- as if he could restrain himself no longer- he groaned and brought his mouth down hard over hers.

Her entire being sparked as soon as their lips met, and all rational thought left her. Pulling her arms around his neck, Hermione brought him closer until their bodies were practically glued together. It was a strange thing kissing Ron, she thought. She was left with nothing but pure instinct to act on, and it frightened and excited her more than she had ever imagined possible. He was so gentle with her, though- his hands caressing her face and neck and waist carefully and lovingly- that she always felt safe with him. Kissing him like this made her believe even more that there could never be anyone else.

Opening his mouth wider, Ron tentatively moved his tongue to swipe along her bottom lip, and she sighed, opening her mouth willingly to him. Cautiously, he slid his tongue against hers, and she responded eagerly, moaning lightly at the taste of him.

Soon, the two of them were on his bed, snogging each other with a new urgency. Hermione couldn't recall exactly how they had gotten there, or when Ron had moved on top of her, but she didn't really care. Her mind was foggy and clouded with things she wasn't quite accustomed to: passion... hunger... lust. She also felt an overpowering sense of yearning, but that was something she had gotten used to from years of watching Ron. Without really knowing what she was doing, or why, she pulled his tongue into her mouth and began gently sucking on it.

A loud moan escaped his throat, and he pressed his hips roughly into hers. Suddenly, Hermione could feel everything- the full extent of his desire straining against his trousers. She gasped in pleasure at the sensation, and the shock of it seemed to clear her head for a brief moment. For one small second, the normal, logical part of her brain regained control and she broke away from him, panting. "Ron," she gasped, trying to slow her breathing.

"Mmm, Hermione," he mumbled, misunderstanding her meaning. He moved his lips hungrily to her jaw, and then down her neck. She shuddered powerfully beneath him and whimpered loudly from the sensations overtaking her, the way his rough stubble felt against her soft skin. The sound seemed to spur him on and he began to trace his tongue against her flesh. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and a powerful ache shot through her entire body, coming to rest between her thighs.

"Ron," she said again, entwining a hand in his hair. Bringing his eyes up to meet hers, she tried to compose her expression and let him know that she was being serious now, but her breathing remained just as ragged as his.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes clouded with passion.

"M-maybe we should stop," she told him shakily.

Ron stared at her in confusion for a long moment, but then his expression began to clear, and he finally seemed to understand what she was saying. He gave her a quick nod and practically jumped away from her.

"Shit, Hermione," he said, running a trembling hand through his hair and covering his face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to-"

"No," she replied quickly. Now, she felt bad for suggesting that they stop. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he'd somehow pressured her into doing something she was only too willing and eager to take part of. "Please don't apologize," she told him sincerely. Turning to face him, she pulled his hand away from his face and forced him to look at her. "I want to be with you, Ron," she told him as firmly as she could, though she felt nervous finally saying it aloud.

"You do?" he asked quietly, looking deep into her eyes, as though searching for any misgivings.

"Of course I do," she said easily, moving to rest her head against his chest. "The reason I think we should stop is... well, because I don't  _want_  to stop. If that makes any sense at all," she chuckled.

"No, not really," he replied, and Hermione looked up at him quickly to see a teasing smile on his face. She gave an exasperated sigh, though she couldn't quite keep the smile from her own lips.

The two of them sat for several moments in silence, and she felt perfectly content; beneath her cheek, she could feel Ron's heart beating out a steady rhythm. He was the one to finally break the silence.

"I-I want to be with you, too, Hermione," he told her quietly. "It's all I've  _ever_  wanted."

Hermione sat up to look at him and felt as if her heart were about to burst in her chest. Without another word, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. As she pulled away, a wide smile broke out across her face, and she whispered, "Me, too." He grinned back at her, and she settled back onto his chest as he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

They lay there until her breathing grew deep and steady. She was just about to drift off to sleep when Ron suddenly said, "Harry had better be back soon."

Sleepily, she smiled slightly and murmured, "Try telling that to Ginny."

Ron stiffened at her words and said loudly, "And what's  _that_  mean?"

"Shh," Hermione insisted, chuckling softly. She reached over to his bedside table where his Deluminator lay; clicking it, she finally doused the light in the room, and they were left surrounded by darkness. "Just sleep."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so basically, if you've made it this far then I'm really impressed, and eternally grateful. Lol. I know this chapter was pretty angst-heavy (especially toward the beginning), but I feel like that's how it should be. This story is going to be dealing with a lot of the raw emotions left behind after the Battle of Hogwarts and Fred's death, especially. However, as evidenced by the last bit of the chapter, not all of those emotions are quite so depressing. ;) Overall, I'm pretty satisfied with this chapter, and I'm excited to show you guys all the exciting stuff I have planned. :)


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